


and heaven knows i’m miserable now

by raseimon



Series: modern au dump [3]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble, Gen, M/M, Side Medusa/Satyr (Granblue Fantasy)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-02-10 07:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18655867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raseimon/pseuds/raseimon
Summary: Baal's gig at a local bar is interrupted by a bar fight - interestingly, the instigator starts the brawl simply because he wants to hear Baal's music. Usually, the musician isn’t for such rambunctiousness, but the stranger catches his eye.





	and heaven knows i’m miserable now

For someone with such a morose personality, Baal shines when he's on stage.

Perhaps it's music lessons from a young age, the fact that he's been in concerts since he was five, and the excitement of a finely-tuned melody, but performances are almost second nature now. He feels energized whenever the light shines on him, hearing the cheers and clapping of crowds.

However, Baal isn't trained for _this._  No matter how loudly he tries to strum his guitar, it can't drown out the increasingly heated arguing beckoning from his audience.

"The fuck are you lookin' at?" a burly, bearded man scoffs, glaring menacingly at the person next to him at the bar. Judging by the five beer bottles next to him, sixth in hand, he's  _extremely_ drunk. Too bad Satyr couldn't get a café or something for Baal's first dip into expanding his musical prowess, though he supposes that alternative-rock doesn't usually fit that scene.

"You, obviously," his seatmate, a taller but leaner man retorts provokingly. He's not someone one would expect to get into a fight, as even from a distance he looks too put-together, too neat and orderly. The other man's definitely a bar brawler, but this man looks far from it. His hair is perfectly slicked back, and he's wearing a button-down and pair of slacks reminiscent of an office-worker. Probably a salaryman trying to drown out his sorrows with a drink, not wanting such boisterousness to disturb his evening. “I’m _trying_ to listen to the music.”

A few more words are tossed that Baal can't make out; he stops his playing to listen. Security looks ready for action at any second.

Baal's eyes widen when the businesslike man takes the first punch. He has a surprising amount of strength, able to knock the muscled man back. A glass is dropped, shattered — if the whole bar wasn't looking at them already, they would be now, wine spilling all over the floor as the men scramble for dominance.

"Hey, play the music again! We need it for this!" Someone from the crowd snickers, which Baal rolls his eyes at.  _I gave up my seat on the Mephorash Orchestra for this?_

"Aw, Baaly, you're famous now!" Satyr smirks, calling from her table near the stage. No one's looking at Baal anymore, so she chatters freely to her friend. "Looks like you got your first groupie defending your honor!"

"Ugh, Satyr, don't let it get to his head!" Medusa refutes next to her, squinting at the performer with belligerence. Satyr only giggles, while Baal glares. It's not long before the fight is contained, at least; the taller man looks relatively unscathed, despite the bigger one throwing a few more punches. Ugh, drunks — a con of shying away from classical music. He'd have to get used to this scene, he supposes.

"Baal, you dummy! You can start playing again!" Medusa gesticulates, snapping him out of his trance. Security drags the two away from each other and seems to be giving the attention-seekers a stern reprimanding. Baal sighs, taking the mic again and readying his next chord.

 _"Your screams... are but a bar of my melody!"_ he calls, before playing again.

 

* * *

 

"Wow, that was amazing, Baaly!" Satyr beams, jumping on him before he can inch away. "Maybe you're made for rock after all!"

"Of course I am," Baal snorts, dusting at his pants and taking off his guitar strap. He starts cleaning up, unplugging it from the speakers and putting it back in its case. "All melodies are made for me, as long as I feel their resonance."

"Yeah, you were okay, I guess, but don't be so arrogant," Medusa argues; Baal flicks her forehead in response. She looks ready to start her own bar brawl, when Satyr suddenly nudges her.

"Oh, Medu, looks like someone's calling me— you mind coming with?" she urges; Medusa looks ready to protest, until Satyr whispers a few words and her face heats up. Satyr grabs her hand and the two walk away, leaving Baal to his own devices when a figure looms before him.

"Since you're not famous yet, mind sparing a word for a fan?" 

Baal looks up, met with a familiar figure from before. He steps back warily, on guard though he doesn't smell any alcohol radiating from him, and raises a brow. "Ah, the guy who interrupted my show."

He wonders how the stranger got out of security, and was allowed to stay inside— the other party was nowhere to be found.

“I deserved that..." the man chuckles into his palm, slicking back his hair. "I wanted to apologize for my unprofessional display.”

”It's okay,” Baal shrugs. He's not bothered— he's kind of flattered, actually, that his music would cause such resonance in such a modest-looking fellow's heart. Maybe Satyr's right and it _is_ getting to his head. “You made the night more entertaining.”

”Hah! I’m glad.” the stranger takes out his hand. Baal stares at it for a few seconds, surprised at the action. No one his age really "shook hands" anymore; the stranger had to be a few years older, what an old geezer move. Nonetheless, he returns the gesture hesitantly, to which the man smiles in relief. “My name’s Nezha. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

”...Likewise,” Baal replies. He retracts quickly, dropping his gaze. “I’m Baal, obviously, if you were listening so intently.”

A few chuckles. “I think you have a lot of potential,” Nezha says earnestly. There's a light blush on his face, a twinkle in his eyes— from the adrenaline of the night, or something else, Baal doesn't know. "I'll come to your performance again."

”Thank you," the sides of Baal's mouth can't help but curve. "I've always wanted a groupie."

Nezha laughs heartily, then winks. "I'm a fan of more than just the music, I have to admit."

"Name five of my tracks and I'll consider it," Baal quips wryly, earning another laugh. Nezha's voice is deep, if a little stuffy. Professional types tend to clash with Baal's personality, often offput by his apathy, but from his previous actions there's definitely more to Nezha than his initial impression. A type that would usually annoy him instead piques Baal's curiosity; instead of a usual drone, Nezha's voice is somehow soothing.

"Mind telling me where your next performance is?"

"I'm trying to become a regular here, but there's still a lot of paperwork, and after your display I'm not sure if they'd let me back in," Baal smirks as Nezha scratches his neck sheepishly. "Otherwise, a friend manages my social media and updates where I'll be."

"Ah, mind writing it down then?" Nezha procures a small card, along with a pen. He seems used to this— maybe he's a salesman of some sort?

"Uh, sure." Baal tries not to roll his eyes, complying and writing down the Twitter that Satyr manages for him.  _You could just, take out your phone and look me up. We're in a modern age, but okay._ "Here."

"Thanks! Here's my own business card, by the way. It's a pleasure." Nezha gives a final smile, and a small wave as he exits. The security guards sneer at him before he leaves; Baal snorts at his new acquaintance's sheepishness before he glances over the card.

_Nezha. Executive Producer at Primal Records. (xxx) xxx-xxxx_

The musician's eyes widen, cursing himself for not acting more polite. Maybe he _would_ have to give this Nezha a call.

His dumbfounded thoughts are interrupted when two familiar heads of purple come up to him, having been polite enough to spy from a distance. Satyr pokes his arm, eyes sparkling with curiosity as she tries to pry into Baal's affairs. "Ooooh, Baaly, did you score yourself a date with your ever-so passionate fan?"

Medusa clicks her tongue. "I still can't believe anyone would get into a fight over  _you,_ of all people. _"_

"Aw, Medussy, do you still wish me and Athena fought over you?" Medusa's face heats up as Satyr turns to her and wraps her arms around her shoulders.

"You're both annoying," Baal mutters under his breath, stuffing the card in his pocket. Medusa puffs her cheeks in annoyance, while Satyr keeps her cheeky grin on. "Now help me clean up."

 

**Author's Note:**

> first off: happy (belated) birthday rory! ilySM and i hope you like this lil drabble SORRY THIS IS SO LATE ;__; 
> 
> anyways, in a modern setting i imagine baal as a fresh college grad trying to make it with his ~music~ and nezha as an officeworker lol (there were a lot of memes about it back in the day with jpn fandom...). so here is that headcanon in writing, kind of, though nezha is in the music industry here (it felt fitting in this setting)
> 
> so glad that primal resonance made baalnezha canon (actually i heard baalaoidos is canon now and as someone who crackshipped it in 2017 i am overjoyed) i'm pretty obsessed with the primal pals ot4 in general though.... sorry it's so short/rushed but i wanted to contribute something to the small tag....


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